


All In Red and Blue

by AlorevFritz



Category: Liberty's Kids
Genre: Angst, Fluff, It's also a canon death, M/M, There is a lot of blood, as well as bodily injuries and gore, character death happens offscreen, overly romantic dorks, so please keep that in mind, this is Ally's fault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:33:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7077118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlorevFritz/pseuds/AlorevFritz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no going back, Bryan knew that. He wanted to though, nothing could have made him want to go back and have one last chance to do it over. All he wanted was a minute more, a minute longer to change what had happened. To bring everything he had lost back, or to experience it all one more time before it all came crashing down. One more minute, three more words he hadn't said. That's all he needed.</p><p>Moving forward seemed just as impossible as moving backward for a once steadfast soldier like him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In Red and Blue

"Tom-"

"Hush, it's alright, you'll be alright." Tom had his arms around him, lowering him to the ground as slowly as he could. They were still falling, Bryan’s weight collapsing against Tom and Tom grunted with the strain. "I'll go get the Sergeant."

Bryan curled in on himself as Tom set him down, gripping his leg and gentle hands cupped his face. A kiss settled on his forehead. "Trust me. I love you okay?"

He managed a tight nod and Tom squeezed his shoulder as his world narrowed down to the sound of gunshots and the pain and the hand that caressed his cheek once more. "I-"

"I know." The hand left and Bryan curled up tightly, attempting to shut out the world and focus on the three whispered words. There was warm, wet blood on his hands and the searing pain in his thigh that brought on choked cries, unable to stop them.

It wasn't long until someone was rolling him onto his back, pushing away his hands and binding the musket wound tightly. He only managed a groan, aware that there was a circle of men standing over him, Tom included. His voice was comforting as he spoke to Sarah, even if Bryan couldn't quite make out the words. She sounded worried, panicked, and Tom was doing his best to keep her calm. The Sergeant moved him a little bit and his leg was jostled as four others lifted him. The man gripping his injured leg was doing his best to be gentle but hardly succeeding in their rush. He tried his best to hold back the pained exclamations he wanted to let out. He didn’t want to worry Tom anymore than he already had. 

Tom's voice faded out behind him and Bryan shut his eyes, waiting for the ordeal to be over.

///

 

"Easy, sir. Easy." The voice was spoke over him, loud in his ears. The tone was worried and forced to calm and Bryan couldn’t identify it. He tensed, eyes flying open and meeting those of a worried young man.

He tried to sit up, tried to figure out where he was and what was going on and two hands shoved him back so he was prone again, staying firm on his shoulders. He followed the hands up, finding the young man with strong arms leaning over him. "What-?"

He coughed as he tried to speak, throat dry and voice raspy. He couldn’t stop the hacking coughs once they started and it took a minute for him to be able to breath again. The man looked behind him, looked to someone Bryan couldn't see and then nodded tersely. "Just need you to hold still until the surgeon's finished sir."

Bryan blinked rapidly, trying to remember what had happened as another strike of pain traveled up his spine and his back arched, a cry leaving his lips. Something was digging into his leg, burrowing into the muscle and he shuddered as he fell back against the sheets.

"For God's sake get him some rum." Someone near his feet muttered and the man sat Bryan up a little bit. He kept one hand against his chest and the other returned with a bottle and pressed it to Bryan's lips. He choked it down quickly, grimacing as he waited for the alcohol to take effect.

He'd been sat up enough to see and Bryan blanched as his curiousity got the better of him. The surgeon was digging into his leg with a knife, brow furrowed in concentration and his uninjured leg had been strapped to the bed to keep him from kicking anyone. The wound itself was a bloody mess and Bryan looked away quickly. He could feel sticky blood around him, mixed with the salty sweat drenching his shoulders. The buzz settling into his system was only doing so much against the pain and the man holding his shoulders forced him to lie back down.

He closed his eyes, curling his hands into fists and a much larger hand took his. "Sir, your nails will break the skin."

He was forced to unfurl his hands slowly and clenched them on the sheets below him instead. "I-Ah!"

"Ball’s out." The same voice that had spoken from near his feet spoke again and Bryan blinked, trying to bring his vision back into focus. The voices speaking over him started to blend together until there was silence and his vision went dark.

/// 

Waking up again was unpleasant. His leg throbbed almost in time with the pounding in his head and every muscle in his body protested as he tried to move. 

"Good morning." A woman leaned over him, hands held in front of her and smiling gently. "How do you feel?"

He had almost expected to hear the good morning coming from Tom's mouth. He almost expected it all to be a dream and to have Tom waking him and slipping into his own bedroll before anyone could find them. He almost expected to be woken by soft kisses and laughter as he struggled to wake up.

He almost expected Tom to be sitting next to him, waiting for him to wake up. 

He didn't answer and the woman only smiled softly. "I'll get you something for the pain. You just rest."

She returned with a pitcher and Bryan didn't pay much attention to what it was, only that she lifted it to his lips and it burned his throat as he drank. After a few long moments the pain subsided and he managed to relax slightly. She patted his shoulder softly and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'll just change your bandages and then you can go back to sleep."

She looked down and Bryan spoke, feeling almost unsure if it was his own voice making noise. "Ma'am. Is there a Lieutenant Tom Phillips here?"

The woman began bandaging his leg gently and Bryan winced, biting down on his lower lip. Her fingers were deft and unrelenting and his breath hitched in his throat. "I'm not certain but I'll see what I can find out for you. What's your name?"

"Lieutenant...Bryan Johnson. Thank you." 

"You're welcome." She stood and took the bloody bandages away and Bryan sat up a bit, trying to see what was around him. There were other men in the tent, the cots well separated for privacy, which hopefully meant not many had been wounded. Perhaps Tom was just on duty. Or with his cousin. That was a likely possibility, and explained his absence. 

The bandage around his leg already had a spot of red on it and Bryan paled. He laid back quickly, trying not to think about it, trying not to think about anything. It was like a headache he was doing his best to ignore and only making it worse.

The woman came back awhile later. "I can't seem to find your friend, sir. Would you like me to ask one of the men in camp?"

"Please. He has a cousin, Sarah Phillips, if she's still in camp..." He trailed off and the nurse nodded. Tom wasn't injured then. Relief swept through Bryan's chest and he breathed deeply. He was probably just fine. Had to be. Tom had told him it would be alright and he kept his promises. All he had to do was know for sure. Once he knew he could stop worrying.

Tom would probably be back soon and he wouldn't like Bryan worrying himself and not doing whatever was in his power to heal. He'd been seasick on the voyage over, when he and Tom were still figuring out what to do about each other. Tom had mothered him whenever possible, content to care for him. He had also been incredibly strict about it, watching Bryan like a hawk. As much as Bryan had protested, it had been nice.

He'd have to try to sleep then. Tom would come and find him eventually or someone would let him know Bryan had asked for him. Until then there was nothing to be done. He wouldn’t have a lecture to listen to then, just his soothing voice and soft hands in his hair. They could have some time, if they were lucky, without having to glance over their shoulders if they got too close are spoke to sweetly. There would be mothering and lectures eventually, but for the moment he just wanted a hand in his. 

He drifted in and out of sleep, finding it harder and harder to stay asleep as the alcohol wore off. When the nurse shook his shoulder hadn't realized he'd actually managed to fall asleep despite it.

"Apologies, I didn't want to wake you before but I need to change the bandage anyways." She set to work at his terse nod.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"The rest of yesterday and most of today. It's past noon now." She paused in her work. "I couldn't find either of the Phillips but a Private found a newspaper with article written by a Sarah Phillips."

"May I see it?" She nodded and handed him the newspaper and Bryan skimmed it quickly, searching for any mention of Tom or himself.

He found what he was looking for nearer to the end of the article. A recount of the events at Lexington.

And then of the events at Concord. A record of events he had missed, a record of Tom's actions there. 

A record of a young Lieutenant by the name of Thomas Phillips being shot in the chest. Of his heroic death.

He stopped breathing. There was no noise, nothing to smell, his mouth felt dry. The paper felt heavy between his fingers and the words were blending together.

Bryan swallowed roughly, blinked to bring the words into focus and then blinked again as something pricked at his eyes. His vision blurred over with tears until his shoved them away aggressively. It was wrong, it had to be wrong.

He read the finality of the black ink again, and again, even as the nurse left. Tom was supposed to walk in right now, ask him why he was crying, and tell Bryan his was just fine, nothing to worry about. 

He wouldn't. He wouldn't walk in. He wouldn't come back to Bryan's side. He wouldn't dry his tears. He wouldn't care for him while he healed.

Bryan wouldn't respond to those three whispered words.

///

The funeral was two weeks after Tom's death. Or so he was told in a very short letter from Sarah Phillips. Tom would be buried with dignity and respect and Bryan would not be attending. It would be quick because Tom's parents weren't capable of travel and the army couldn't spare the resources to send him home with a sudden war on their hands. Sarah would be there, and a few soldiers Tom had considered friends, and no one else.

The doctor had crudely set his leg in hopes that would help. He'd found bone shards where an intact bone should have been while digging out the ball. Bryan had been too preoccupied to do anything but endure it. It almost hurt enough to take his mind off things, and it hurt enough that at least he was feeling something.

If it weren't for the pain, he would have been numb. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to write. There was a letter from his mother, likely wanting news of how he was. He couldn't be sure of whether she knew he'd been wounded or not. The nurse had placed it on the side table for him and hadn't asked why it wasn't open.

The letter from Sarah was the only thing he'd read. The nurse had offered to bring him something to write on, or newspapers to read, even books if she could get a hold of one, and he had shook his head sullenly and retreated back into his own mind.

It was easy to daydream. It was easy to let his mind wander and think he was back in Boston sharing a room with Tom. They'd been smart about that, getting lodging in a home with only one spare room and sharing it. There hadn't been any suspicion regarding it, considering how many soldiers needed somewhere to stay. It had been perfect and they'd spent lazy mornings after night shifts, and late nights after day shifts together. It had been the best time of his life and they'd both been eager to return to Boston after taking the munitions. They'd both been eager to fall back into bed together without worrying about interruptions. Sleeping together in tents required them to be cautious, and it had been tiring; but Bryan considered it worth it.

Tom had wanted them to try. Bryan had been cautious to begin with, concerned they'd be caught. It was a bitter thought now. That he'd almost refused Tom's affection and touch out of fear. Would it have made this easier or twice as difficult? He would never know now.

"Lieutenant Johnson. A visitor for you." 

Bryan looked up, jaw tight as he brought himself back to reality. There was a tray of food and a bottle next to the bed that he hadn't touched. He hadn't eaten for nearly three days and he'd drank a little this morning. The hunger pains took his mind off the pain in his leg, pressing and urgent compared the throbbing burn that never left.

Sarah appeared out from behind the nurse. "Bryan..."

He nodded once, softly and Sarah stepped forward, holding a package in her arms. She sat on the edge of the cot, chewing on her bottom lip. Everything about her was a little bit too reminiscent of Tom, but also too different. Her hair, the way she held herself. It wasn’t fair. "How are you?"

He didn't answer, just shrugged and Sarah sighed, expression sympathetic. "I just came from Tom's funeral. I thought you would like to know, I know you two were close."

She could never know just how close. She would never realize what Tom had meant to him. She would never know the pain he felt not even being able to see Tom's body again. His last memory of Tom would be a gentle hand on his cheek and a kiss brushed to his forehead as he thought he might die. But he hadn't. Instead Tom was gone and when it should have been him.

She looked around and bit her lip again. "Are you not feeling well Bryan? Did I interrupt your meal?"

He shook his head and her brows furrowed. "You should be eating to regain your strength."

If Tom was with them he would have been disappointed. But he wasn't there and the will to do such simple things was gone. He finally spoke, if only hoping Sarah would leave him be. They were too much alike, he couldn’t handle her being there. "Thank you for coming to see me Sarah. I'm afraid I am not very good company at the moment."

Sarah nodded quickly. "That's quite alright Lieutenant. I'm sorry for disturbing your rest. I wanted to drop off some things for you, Tom...would have wanted you to have them.”

It wouldn't bring him back. What did pieces of him matter when it wouldn't bring him back? She held out the package and he took it, barely hearing as Sarah made some excuse to leave. She could obviously sense something in the air around him. Or maybe the nurse had just asked her not to stay long.

He flipped the package in his hands over and over, critically eyeing every detail of it until his vision blurred. With sleep or tears he didn't know and he didn't bother to check. It didn't matter anymore, it was all the same. 

He clenched the package tightly for a minute, and then threw it at the leg of the an empty bed across from him. It split open, the contents falling to the ground. There was nothing in there that could fix any of this. It couldn't bring Tom back, it couldn't help him move on, and it couldn't fix his leg.

He wanted to yell and cry and curse. No noise came out of his mouth. He wanted to do something, wanted to make a sound. Wanted to express everything. Wanted to get rid of the feelings trapped in his chest.

He was too afraid to break the silence. Everything here was the same. He would be quiet and the nurse would check on him every few hours. He would drift off and wake up and eat something and the nurse would seem happier when she checked on him then. It was a routine he didn't want. 

Every soldier that came in reminded him of Tom. Every letter read aloud from a girl back home was a reminder of what he'd lost. Every gentle touch of the nurse brought him back to Tom. He was being forced for relive what he could never have again.

Bryan closed his eyes tightly, and swung his legs off the edge of the cot quickly. His bad leg protested and he ignored it, leaning on the bed frame from support.

He wasn't sure how the nurse noticed him stand and collapse but she was at his side in moments. Her hands and words urged him to lie back down, fussing over him.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded once, accepting the treatment.

"You really should not be putting weight on your leg."

He motioned vaguely at the broken package as an excuse. "I just..." 

The nurse scooped it up quickly and handed him a letter, brows furrowing at something still in her hand. "I apologize if Ms. Phillips left quickly on my account. I didn't realize the two of you were courting."

"What?" Bryan choked and the nurse dropped a locket into his hand. 

"Is it not hers?"

He cracked it open with the nurse still watching to find a portrait of Tom behind broken glass. His breath caught. "It's of her cousin, a friend of mine...he..."

He didn't finish and the nurse sighed sadly. "He had a woman then?"

Bryan swallowed harshly and managed a nod.

"Well, I can take it to get fixed and mailed to her for you?"

"No! No, I...I would rather...deliver it myself." He spoke quickly, wincing. The nurse's voice was kind.

"Between the threat of infection and constant movement, your wound won't allow you travel for quite some time. I'm sure she'd appreciate-"

"I'll deliver it personally. It's what he would have wanted." Bryan tried to make his words firm and the nurse nodded slowly. He didn't hear what she said as she left, gripping the locket firmly enough to dig into the skin of his palm.

///

Bryan grimaced as he shifted, trying to shove the blanket off himself. He'd been so warm all day and it was only getting worse as the sun went down. He felt restless, too hot to sleep and too uncomfortable to lie back and let his mind drift off. 

He couldn't stop trying to roll slightly, to get onto his side and give his back a break. He felt itchy and sore but every attempt to move on his own jostled his leg and he was forced to stop. If it hadn't been for the brace holding his leg still, he would have rolled over and been done with it. The pain all at once he could deal with.

Instead he was hot and exhausted and uncomfortable. He watched the nurse do her final rounds and waited until she had left before sitting up. The infirmary had begun emptying since he'd been there, leaving only a few with serious injuries like his own left. It gave him some privacy at least. The nurse had tread lightly around him after his outburst with the locket. He didn't feel quite bad enough about it to apologize.

He fumbled with the water pitcher beside his bed and drank the majority of it, eyes falling to the letter at the top of the stack. He swallowed hard, gaze dropping. The letters from his parents were of no consequence. At least not right now. The letter atop was Tom's. 

He hadn't read it yet either. And he was terrified to. Initially he hadn't read it because it didn't matter. Tom was gone and the letter wouldn't change that. Now he was terrified that whatever was in the letter was something he couldn't handle reading.

He reached for it and held it close, finding it smelt like gunpowder and ink and parchment and iron. Any hope that it might have Tom's lingering scent on it was crushed. All he wanted was a piece. No scent, he'd broken the locket, he didn't even have any of his clothes. All he wanted was a little bit of Tom to keep while the rest of him moved on. Something to keep him here with Bryan.

Bryan laid back, still clutching the letter as though it could change anything.

When the nurse woke him, the letter was damp with sweat and she took it from him gently, laying a cold compress on his forehead. He managed a sigh, trying to focus on her face. "Shh, the doctor will be here soon."

The world was tilted and hard to focus on, eyes refusing to do what he asked. Bryan tried to move, finding all of his muscles sore and limbs unresponsive. The nurse soothed him quietly. It was like he could hardly hear her, he could hardly think.

She moved aside as a man's face came down to his, hands on his forehead and then down to either side of his neck. The fingers were probing and he winced as they pressed in too hard. The hands left and then were pushing into his leg and Bryan arched, a moan escaping even as he tried to hold it back.

The nurse hushed him as if that could help with pain. She smoothed his hair from his forehead and Bryan turned away from her, refusing the touch. She sighed and stepped away, recognizing his self-imposed loneliness. 

The doctor nodded to himself and stood slowly. "Keep him warm and dry for now. If the infection worsens we'll see what the options are. Bedrest until we know for certain."

Bryan closed his eyes and feigned sleep until the nurse had had enough hovering and left him alone.

///

It wasn't getting better, he didn't need the nurse to tell him that. Every movement exhausted him, as though he'd run for miles, and his leg felt like it was burning. Between the doctor and the nurse he was hardly ever alone. He couldn't escape human interaction no matter how hard he tried. And when he was alone, there was Tom.

He wasn't sure when Tom had appeared. Or why he'd felt the need to do this to him. It was painful but he couldn't yell at him to leave. Couldn't even make the words leave his throat in a whisper.

At first it had just been glimpses at the edge of his vision. Until he felt too sick to think, to react until Tom was close enough to touch him. And now...

Tom was hovering over him, fingers ghosting against his cheek gently, like a breeze. It was cool and soothing against the sweat dripping from his hairline. He tried to lean up into the touch, only succeeded in turning his head and falling against the pillow.

"Bryan..." He looked sad almost, lips curving up into a watery smile. Bryan longed to kiss the look off him. Tom had finally come and hadn't kissed him once. He missed Tom's kiss. He missed his touch. Just one last touch would have been enough. If he could do it all again, one last touch, one last look. He wanted one last time to swallow his nervousness, to deal with his tight chest and choke out the words he hadn’t been able to say. The words Tom had said so easily.

Bryan tried to speak, tried to get words out and choked instead. A pair of hands appeared from somewhere and he whined as Tom disappeared. Something pressed to his lips, cool water poured down his throat. He'd been so hot for so long, the blankets he tried to push off constantly being replaced. 

He was sat up by someone else's hands, bread put to his lips and Bryan resolutely kept his mouth closed. The smell alone was bringing nausea to his stomach and the hands were removed. He burrowed into the pillow, eyebrows furrowed until his stomach had settled enough to stop threatening bile in his throat.

It could have been an hour. Or maybe a second. Tom's hazy figure returned.

"I...ah, I-"

He was hushed quietly. "I know. I know."

"I didn't-"

"Shh. I know how you felt. I knew. Don't worry." Bryan tried to touch him, tried to pull him close and couldn't reach him. Something cool and wet was set on his forehead. He sighed softly and a hand that wasn't Tom's brushed his hair off his forehead. He wanted Tom. With Tom the pain was gone, the heaviness was gone, the nausea and headaches were gone. It felt like he could just leave it all behind and move on. Sometimes Tom’s figure was clearer, his touch more real until it went away. He always seemed concerned when that happened.

Tom was still there, just out of reach, just at the edge of his vision. So close to being gone and Bryan tried to focus on him, pull him back. His head pounded and he ignored it.

"What do you think Doctor?"

"The fever hasn't broken and the infection is getting worse. There isn't anything we can do for his leg. Even in the shape it was in before, chances of him walking again were slim."

The voices were loud and soft at the same time, the words indecipherable. Whenever he tried to focus on them, Tom disappeared. There was something niggling in the back of his mind that said it was important. Whatever was being said was important. 

Tom was more important. More important than the others speaking over him. He couldn't remember why but Bryan was scared to let him go. Something had him terrified to lose Tom. He couldn't remember what. Whatever it was it seemed to make them both sad. Whenever he tried to find it Tom did his best to distract him.

"I doubt we'll get an answer out of him. Perhaps we should go ahead? It could save his life."

"Yes. Perhaps you're right. Go and find a few strong men. I'll prepare him."

His leg was moved and Bryan cried out, hot pain flaring even as he shivered in the cold air. Tom moved closer to him and Bryan tried to reach for him again. His arm barely got off the bed. A strong hand grabbed it and another trapped his other wrist.

"Grab that leg. If he moves it could be unfortunate."

His right leg was held down like his arms, the grip unforgiving. Tom sat down on the bed, next to his head, a hand in Bryan's hair. "It'll be alright. You'll be alright."

Someone manhandled his injured leg, and Bryan cried out, everything coming into focus at once, the pain cleaning his mind. A man holding his arms, another on his good leg. The doctor was positioned over him, large knife in his hands. 

He knew what that meant. He couldn't get air into his chest, still hot and cold at the same time. The doctor must have seen the panic in his eyes or the distress on his face because he gave Bryan a sympathetic look. "Let's make this as quick as we can. Give him the rum."

Bryan took the drink offered, trying to take in every drop. There was no stopping this, he'd have to hope he passed out in the middle of it. He felt far too sober even as the doctor waited a minute for the alcohol to take effect. It was the most sober he'd felt since waking up to the surgeon digging the ball out of his leg. He was terrified.

Cold steel touched his leg and he gritted his teeth together, expression scrunched but eyes still open. The doctor nodded to his assistants and Bryan turned his head, looking away. And then the blade bit down, into flesh. He screamed until his voice gave out, the doctor steadily digging and sawing. If he heard Bryan he gave no indication, there was no pause, no reprieve.

His vision blurred and there was ringing in his ears. Every part of his body was on fire. The pain kept coming. Kept coming and coming. It didn't stop and Tom's voice whispered in his ear. He wanted to just give up, to join him but there was no escape to be found.

"You have more to do. I love you. Don't forget that."

It was close. As to whether the doctor finished or Bryan passed out first. Nearly the same second, the doctor moving recklessly fast to finish and stop Bryan from bleeding out. Bryan eager to find any semblance of relief offered to him.

He woke up a week later. He felt exhausted still and his mind hazy. Something had happened. Something very bad had happened.  
He pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking sleepily to clear his vision. It took him a long moment to get his bearings, and an even longer minute to force his mind to remember. There has been heat, and Tom, and the surgeon had…

He looked down, heart skipping a few minutes. He reached down without realizing to press his hand against his leg. He tried to touch the musket wound he could swear he still felt and found nothing. Found nothing there to touch despite the pain.

Bryan couldn’t be sure if he made a sound, closing his eyes and opening them over and over, praying it was dream. His hands still tried to grab for what should have been a leg, grasping air over and over again. Someone came to his side and was speaking, seemingly attempting to calm him down. He couldn’t hear them.

Tom was gone. No hazy figure left. Dread settled in Bryan's stomach and he knew there was nothing he could do. Tom was gone and with him, Bryan's leg.

**Author's Note:**

> You can all go yell at Ally for this horrible plot twist @fuck-off-Jefferson on tumblr. If you really wanna yell at me, I'm @Alorevfritz and we enjoy your pain more than we probably should. I'm sort of sorry for this but not really.


End file.
